There is No Tomorrow
by Nan
Summary: This is an episode reaction fic for "Dream Team" tossed with a little speculation for the series finale. HM shipper
1. Default Chapter

* * *

Title: There isNo Tomorrow

Author: Nan

Rating: PG

Notes – Wow, next weeks previews are amazing! However, I must say – it seems like we are getting set up for a pretty angsty grand finale for our two heroes. The following story is my episode reaction piece for the second to last JAG ever – "Dream Team." Mixed in with a little speculation on the finale – "Fair Winds and Following Seas"

This picks up right where 'Dream Team' ended – Harm's been told about his promotion in the JAG boardroom. There are a few spoilers in this story, okay?

* * *

It felt like a permanent fog had settled on his brain. It was like all the thoughts in his head were mired in some sort of swamp of indecipherable feelings. He tried to recall the last time he had felt like this. He was familiar with this mazy, muddled type of feeling. But the last time he had been hanging from tree by his chute. Or in the hold of a decommissioned carrier. Or slouched over in the open cockpit of crumpled biplane.

Only this time, he wasn't in Russia. Or Alameda. Or Paraguay. There was no associated blunt force trauma. This time, he was at the polished cherry wood conference table at JAG in Falls Church. Sitting upright in a leather chair to the right of General Cresswell. And yet, his head ached like he had gone ten rounds with Wild Bill.

Harm suspected that more than a month of three to four hours daily sleep time was starting to take its toll. His usual work load at JAG coupled with the four hour round trip to Blacksburg each evening compounded the issue. But up till five minutes ago, he had been functioning quite well.

The load of proverbial bricks had hit him, when Cresswell announced that Mac was leaving for San Diego and his next billet was London. Bud, across the table, was still grinning as he made his report on the case of the Power Bar junkie and the Puffer fish poison. Bud was pleased, basking in the reflected glory of both his mentors' good fortune. There was no one like Bud, who could take as much pleasure in his friends' promotion as he would in his own.

Well, that begged the next question. If Bud was happy - why wasn't he? Cresswell had just announced his promotion to Captain, for God's sake. Captain! The dream of reaching O6 had been moved to a metaphoric dead dreams folder years ago. Filed right next to the one about being the CAG on the SeaHawk. But somehow, he had done it. It was official. He was now 'Captain Rabb.'

But instead of pumping his arm in the air in victory, all he could think of was that lopsided grin that was currently plastered on Mac's face. A grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. Those beautiful, luminous, caramel macchiato eyes. Eyes that took him back to a meeting nine years ago in a rose garden.

It was over. Harm and Mac no longer worked at JAG, Falls Church.

That stupid, nine year, back and forth, 'thing' that was neither friendship nor courtship. The thing that stood between them. That whatever thing, that weird thing, that loyal thing, that life and death thing. In 72 hours, it would all be gone.

There would be no more 'closing the gap.' How could anyone close a gap that was 6000 miles? Let's face it, 'gap closing skills' was the one thing neither he nor Mac excelled at. They couldn't close the gap when their offices were less than ten feet away. The odds that they could do something now were big, astronomical; to say the least. He finally got the point.

And since Christmas it had gone so good. Since Mac's accident on Christmas Eve. There had been an imperceptible shift in the time/warp continuum. Mac enjoyed his company. They had stopped fighting. And they were talking. He started to believe that just maybe, he could be the one to make her smile. Not Webb, Brumby or Dalton. Him, Rabb, Harm, Flyboy. The only one for Mac. Forever.

And if Mattie's plane crash hadn't happen, there may been some legitimate improvement in lessening that damn gap.

Mattie's accident had shredded the fragile bridge that he had started to erect with his partner. He pushed everyone away. But he pushed Mac harder than anyone. Cause he knew that she knew. Knew the reason why.

Damn her! She could always read him. Even when he was foundering in a cold ocean a hundred miles off Cape Fear, she knew him.

And she was going to tell him why he felt so guilty about Mattie. And she would be right. And he couldn't face that yet.

If he only had more time and Mattie was a bit better… then maybe he could face Mac again. And work on lessening the gap.

Mattie! Harm's head spun like he had pulled some G's. Hadn't he promised her last night at the hospital that things would turn out okay? She was still coming to terms with the extent of her injuries. And Tom didn't even know his daughter was awake! What was going to happen to Mattie? Only 72 hours.

He physically willed himself to resist the incoming tsunami of emotion that threatened to overtake him. Staff call was ending and Cresswell wanted a few words with him. Behind the general, he could see Bud lined up to express his congratulations. Coates was smiling. Vukovic was grinning. Even Sturgis was lingering to offer a lukewarm sentiment. He looked around for Mac. He caught a glimpse of a shapely, marine green object exiting the oak door to the conference room. She was gone.

It was over. He had nothing. Neither Mac nor Mattie. A high price to pay for an extra strip of gold lace on navy blue uniform.

* * *

There was something satisfying about the sound of packing tape ripping off a roll. Harm pressed the clear sticky plastic to the box; sealing it with his fingers. He looked around his apartment. Five and half hours of work and already it was starting to take on that moving look.

He reviewed his mental list. He had been down to Blacksburg to talk to Mattie's doctor about the possibility of care in London. Tom Johnson was still no where to be found but he had neighbors and relatives looking for him. He had also called legal services at JAG to look into regaining custody. He was too damn busy to do it himself this time.

Two things he still needed to do. He still had not found eight hours of time to string together for a decent night's sleep. And he hadn't seen Mac since the announcement in the boardroom.

He was going to make one last request of his ex-partner. Cresswell had warned him that his presence was expected at the British Embassy for a formal reception tomorrow night. As the Force Judge Advocate based in London, it was just the first taste of his new political obligations. Well, if he was going to go - he wanted Mac to be his date. One last time with the most beautiful woman in the corps.

Harm picked up a flat box form from the pile and walked over to the dismantled kitchen. He was wrapping wine glasses in paper when he heard a light tapping on his door.

Without looking up, he called, "Come in. Door's open."

He heard soft footsteps and instinctively knew it was Mac. She was standing in the middle of his former living room, watching him pack kitchen utensils.

"Hi," he said feeling suddenly tongue tied. He went back to his packing. How do you tell the woman you love – that you love her? Especially when she has one foot out the door, yet again.

"You look terrible," she said quietly.

He snorted. "You keep telling me that."

"Congratulations, by the way. The Navy finally got something right." Harm could feel her eyes studying him.

"You too," he said sincerely. And he was surprised to find that he meant it. There was no woman, or man for that matter, more dissevering of that promotion. He wanted; no he needed to see her do it. To assume command in the fashion she had been trained to do. She had worked for so long to get to this point. Nothing should stop her now. She was incredible.

He felt her come closer. She reached out and stopped him as he reached for another wine glass. Next thing he knew, he was facing her; looking into those eyes. She held each of his big hands in one of her soft ones.

"Are we ready for this?" she asked softly.

He felt control slipping away. She was standing on her toes, moving her lips upwards to his. And he couldn't resist. He reduced elevation and placed his palms on her back, crushing her warm firm body to his. He was so damn tired. And this felt so right.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Title: There is No Tomorrow – 2/

Author: Nan

Rating: PG

Notes – No promises here. At first I just wanted to write a little episode reaction fic. Now it's turning into a speculation fic. Just to warn you – guessing not my strong suit. But having said that, my imagination has been running wild after the great previews after 'Dream Team.'

Thanks for all of the support, BTW. I love the feedback. It feeds the need.

* * *

At first awareness, all Harm could feel was the warmth. Like being wrapped in a blanket. No, not a blanket. it was too scented and silky. Although his sleep muddled brain told him that a blanket was involved; twisted around his waist. A sweet-smelling fragrance lingered in the air. A thousand images flitted in his thoughts and out again. Why was it so familiar?

One side of his face was buried in this fragrance. He realized he was cheek to bare skin. And it was a woman's skin. No doubt about that. He shifted slightly, feeling a collarbone just below the soft surface against his face.

His arms were wrapped around a womanly form. A woman's naked form. How long had it been since he held someone? Too long, judging by the immediate physical reaction from other parts of his body.

It was then that his sluggish mind finally processed the scent.

Mac! Harm jumped slightly and opened his eyes with a jerk. Memories of making love to his ex-partner in his soon to be ex bedroom came flooding back.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. Mere inches away, she was watching him with a solemn expression on her face.

He groaned inwardly. Coupled with all his conflicted feelings about this woman - he now had fallen asleep right after their first and most amazing session of sex. How had he let this happen? How had he ended up in the sack with Mac anyway? The last couple of hours were somewhat of a blur.

Using her free hand, she started to train an index finger lightly along his chin line. He heard her soft voice say, "You don't seem exactly… happy."

"No." he started but stopped when he realized the index finger was now drawing light circles behind his earlobe.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of her against his skin. Finally he said, "I feel like hell."

"Tired?" she asked softly.

"A bit, I guess." He hesitated, closing his eyes and trying not to get distracted by that wandering finger. "I just wish it hadn't happen like this."

"Like what?"

"You, me, in bed…," he started.

The finger stopped. "This is about regrets?"

"No! Well, yes. I wanted better for you."

She narrowed her eyes as she searched his face. The finger resumed, this time trailing around the back of his shoulder. "Thank you. I think," she said.

"You're half way out the door again," he pointed out; remembering a conversation from a couple of years ago.

Silence. Then, "So are you. Let's call it even this time."

I've always been interested in you; he wanted to say to her. And now, when you are truly going for good, I regret all my lost opportunities.

Out loud he said, "Can I ask you a favor?"

She smiled suggestively and continued to work the finger. This time it was making circles on the flat plane of his chest. "Sure," she said. "Name it."

"I have to go to a formal reception at the British Embassy tomorrow night. Would you come with me?" he asked.

Mac considered this. "Only if you'll do me a favor in return," she said.

"What?" It was his turn to smile suggestively.

"Talk to me about Mattie," she said quietly.

If he had been standing in the doorway of her office; he would have turned and walked out. He felt that strongly. But lying in his bed, limbs intertwined with hers; gave him the courage to trust her.

He sighed and said, "What do you want to know?"

"How is she?"

"The prognosis is much better, now that she is awake and aware," he said quietly. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her.

"How is she? I mean, what can she do?" Mac's eyes were averted, studying his chin line.

"Talk, breathe, move her head. And there is some returning sensation to other parts."

"Are they optimistic for a full recovery?" she asked.

"Too soon to tell," he said. "But it hasn't been ruled out."

"Is she adjusting?"

Images of a teenage girl lying in a hospital hooked up to God knows what, crashed over him. He released himself from Mac's embrace and sat up in the bed. Resting against the headboard, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sure she is adjusting. What other choice does she have?" he said, trying not to sound bitter.

Mac sat up and leaned on the headboard next to him. A sheet swirled around her hips. "Harm, are you blaming yourself for this?"

"That would be silly," he said.

"Of course it would. But that doesn't stop you for feeling responsible for her, does it now?"

"I thought had it all planned out so perfectly. Flawless logic. I had it all planned down to a T. Right down to the point where I paid for her private lessons to learn how to fly. Why? Cause I fly and I like it. And I wanted her to like it too. Now she's in a bed. Maybe forever. But you had that all figured out, right?"

He hadn't meant to say that last sentence. Mac had been nothing but supportive through this whole thing. Even though he had been nothing but miserable to her. But emotions were boiling inside him.

Harm couldn't sit still any longer. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He put on the first T-shirt and sweats he could find and walked to the kitchen. He picked up a glass and started to wrap it in packing paper.

A few minutes went by and then he heard her padding up behind him. She had dressed into her clothes. He felt her soft arms being inserted around his waist. She leaned up against his back. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of her touching him.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"What's next for Mattie? Considering…" Mac's voice trailed off.

"Considering I'm just about to move one continent and one ocean away?" He finished her sentence.

"Yes."

"Well, Tom's off the wagon and completely AWOL. Even if we found him today, it would take a couple of months before I could trust him to be responsible for Mattie. The stakes are too high and he just seems incapable of facing that. So I'm going for custody."

"What does Mattie's doctor think about moving her to England at this stage?"

"No problem." He lied again. Mac was moving on to bigger and better things. It would serve no purpose for her to know that Mattie's care providers had been skeptical about the entire idea – to say the least. Truth be told, he was in a bind. He had a meeting with the specialists responsible for her care tomorrow morning. He would hear the verdict then.

"So…," he said turning around to face her. "Are you coming to that reception with me?"

It was the one last thing they could do together. He needed to nail this at least.

She looked up at him, arms still around his waist. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," she said.

"One more favor," he said.

She smiled, "What now? I really should get back to my place, you know."

"Don't dress military. I have to but you don't."

"What are you suggesting, Captain Rabb?" She was grinning now. "You still think whites and gold wings will get you anything you want?"

He smiled at that. "Hasn't it always?"

She turned and walked over to her purse by the door. Mac reached for the handle and paused. "Harm?" she said.

"Hmmm?" he said, turning his attention back to packing.

"No regrets, okay? This was as much my idea as yours."

"No regrets," he echoed as she closed the door behind her.


End file.
